The Good of the One
by MidKnight Rider
Summary: "What does she want from me, Daphne?" His gaze was fixed on some distant point. Light and shadow caressed the distinctive planes of his face, which was set in classic Vulcan composure.  But a maelstrom roared in his eyes. "What part of her does she
1. Chapter 1

**The Good of the One**

This is part of my "AU" in which my original character lives. I did once write her into virtually every second and third season episode – off camera – and this story is part of that series. At this point in her story, only Spock and McCoy know she is Jim's sister, and no one knows about her relationship with Spock.

This is a "missing" scene from Journey to Babel, in Spock's quarters after his mother storms out. (On a side note, I've always wondered how the door knew Spock didn't want to leave the room. He walks straight up to it and it doesn't so much as twitch.) I also use this story to confirm that – at least the officer's quarters – have private bathrooms. ;-)

Journey to Babel may have been a story of espionage and diplomacy on the surface, but its true heart was Vulcan family relationships. So in this scene, I use Daphne to explore the complicated dynamic of a multicultural, interplanetary family.

Daphne crept softly out of the bathroom and found Spock, with his back to her, his hand on the door. His head was bent and a deep tension ran across the muscles of his back and shoulders.

He turned to face her and she saw that he was trying to shake off the scene with his mother.

Impossible.

She crossed the room in quick, light steps, put her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest. Even as she did it, she wasn't sure he would allow it. Beneath her hands his spine was straight and strong, every line of his body lean and hard. For a single moment they stood, locked in place as if to remain frozen that way forever.

He was Vulcan, the heir-apparent to a powerful Vulcan clan, the son of an important Ambassador, a Star Fleet Officer and Second in Command of the Fleet's Flagship. He was torn between two cultures. He was brilliant and tortured.

In her arms, she felt only Spock, solid and real and immediate.

"You could have told her I was in here," Daphne said, softly.

Spock took her by her forearms and set her away from him. She let her hands fall to her sides, respecting his wishes.

"It would have made no difference," he said, harshly, 'My mother would have said exactly the same thing if she had found me on the Bridge."

Daphne shook her head slightly, "Surely not," she said.

"My mother still thinks of me as the 6 year old boy I was before my kahs wan," Spock said, as if explaining a particularly puzzling enigma, one he still had not quite grasped.

"Before you chose a Vulcan path," Daphne guessed, "Back when there was still hope you would be more like her even though you look more like your father."

Spock's intake of breath was harsh and short, but then he nodded. He stepped past her then, to go to his desk. He dropped into the chair as if he were suddenly very old and cast the computer screen a single glance. She knew he was monitoring the Bridge. Apparently satisfied with whatever the monitor had revealed, he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers before him. Daphne waited.

"What does she want from me, Daphne?" His gaze was fixed on some distant point. Light and shadow caressed the distinctive planes of his face, which was set in classic Vulcan composure. But a maelstrom roared in his eyes. "What part of her does she want to find in me?" He looked at her then, his eyes intense. "Does she truly wish for a human reaction? Has she considered what that might mean?"

She answered him slowly, softly, "Your father has not spoken to you in 18 years, and does not acknowledge your presence or your accomplishments even when you are in the same room. He has made a foolish and, seemingly, illogical decision to risk an important mission and his own health by concealing information. But your mother wants you to save him anyway." 


	2. Chapter 2

Spock's brow furrowed, "Does she sincerely believe I am under some obligation placed on me by my human heritage to risk 500 lives, this ship, my own life and possibly my career in order to save him? Why does she not understand that my father will not accept or condone such an action and will, in fact, use it to further condemn me? No Vulcan could ever accept that the needs of the one would come before the needs of the many. Yet she wants to make my father that one, and she wants me to help her."

Pain fought with anger in her heart. She didn't know what to offer him, other than her unconditional support no matter his decision. He seemed condemned at the moment to do what was right and logical from the Vulcan standpoint, and what he had to do or risk the discipline of Star Fleet, both at the cost of his mother's eternal wrath; or to save his father's life only to be condemned by the man for yet another act unworthy of a Vulcan. His own parents did this to him. They had spent the 36 years of Spock's life slowly tearing him in two, like tissue rent inch by inch in tiny precise movements.

Why didn't either of them understand that refusing to speak to Spock was unlikely to change his mind or alter his behavior? Did either of them know the only thing it did was break his heart?

She moved soundlessly across the space between them and sat down in the chair across the desk. The movement was lovely, with the pure grace Spock had come to recognize. Her expression was composed and thoughtful. A deep calm radiated from her that he wanted to fall into.

But she put her hands between her knees tightly in a gesture he had learned meant she was uncomfortable with the emotional undercurrents surrounding her. The complexities of his bicultural family were bad enough. But she was also dealing with the extra burden of the visiting ambassadors and her worry about Jim.

He studied the delicate curve of her ear and her almost impossibly vulnerable neck as it rose gracefully to vanish beneath her blond hair. Sharply, uncomfortably he was reminded of his mother.

"She wants to find the part of her that loves your father unconditionally and to the exclusion of all else," Daphne spoke in a rush. It was uncertain, even to her who knew Spock so well, whether the question had been rhetorical. She was unsure how much of his family he really wanted to explore or have explained.

Spock's eyebrow lifted infinitesimally. "Indeed," he said, slowly, "I am not certain such a part exists."

A thin line of tension ran out of her that he had accepted her answer and not withdrawn behind the great wall of Vulcan discipline.

"I am not certain it should," Daphne observed, "Your mother is Sarek's bond mate, not you. You should not be expected to give him the same devotion." She leaned towards him, the red light from the area around his bed casting her in a warm glow. "Spock, I would never violate your mother's privacy, but like all humans she has no ability at all to conceal her feelings. Under the current circumstances she's breaking through even my shielding. Your mother is terrified at the idea of losing your father."

"My parents have always been unusually devoted to each other," Spock shifted and folded his hands. "I am not immune to her pain, Daphne. I simply cannot do what she wants." He looked up then, and into the eyes of the woman who had lit a slow fire in his soul. Daphne would understand, she always did. "She is my mother, and yet a greater gulf sometimes lies between us than between my father and me. I will never understand her."

She smiled then, only slightly but it was like the sun breaking through a thundercloud and for a moment Spock was lost in it.

"I understand her," she said, as passion and devotion settled in her gaze," I understand her because I love her son the way she loves his father. I am not sure what I would do if you were dying and there was only one way to save you; and that way was blocked."

"Is that what you think I am doing? Blocking the way?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, circumstances are blocking you quite well on their own," She leaned towards him, "I know you. I know that you would easily risk your life and your career if the reason was right. You have already done so – for Captain Pike, for this ship, for Jim, for me. Whether reacting as a human or a Vulcan, I know you would save your father now if you could. What could he do? Not speak you to for another eighteen years? He is going to do that anyway."

"If he lives," Spock said, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

She ached for him again, longing to run her fingers through his hair and rub the tension out of his shoulders. Spock was so rigid, so strong most of the time; and he used that strength to hold people at bay. She clenched her hands between her knees again and fought the need to touch him. Overwhelming tenderness consumed her but she fixed her gaze on the blue-black highlights of his hair and struggled for something to say instead.

"He'll live," she said finally, with conviction.

His head cocked to one side curiously. "How do you know?"

She smiled a little again, though it didn't quite reach all the way into her eyes.

"I have a feeling," and then quickly to stave off his visual protest, "Don't look at me like that. I know a feeling isn't entirely logical but mine is based on careful observation. I can't believe McCoy won't find a way to save him. He won't let Sarek die. Even if he hasn't spoken to you in eighteen years, Sarek is _your _father and McCoy won't let your father die. I'm not sure anyone on this ship understands what exists between you and Jim and McCoy, but it does exist. I think the Vulcan concept of _t'hyla_ comes closest – more than friends, only slightly less than brothers. You all love each other unconditionally whether you admit it or not. McCoy will find a way."

Her eyes speared into his then, a pure gold interrogation that saw straight to the depths of his being.

"It's what you are counting on," she said, bluntly. "McCoy will do his job so you can do yours. It's that certainty in each other that makes the friendship work in spite of its obvious obstacles. You believe in each other, without question."

Spock was temporarily robbed of speech. He had never allowed the thought much less voiced it. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of exploring the complicated relationship that had arisen between himself, his CO and the doctor. Certainly it could no longer be considered strictly professional.

He reached across the desk for her hand, which she offered him willingly. He clasped it in the human manner, as tightly as he dared. The touch spoke volumes to her. In the rare times when he did let down his guard, it was like being touch by something rare and enchanting.

"I wonder," he said, finally, his velvet voice low and measured, "if anyone else has ever dared to call one of Sarek's decision 'foolish and illogical'."

Her full lips curved into a smile, seeing the ploy for what it was. Spock was deftly steering the conversation into less personal waters. His parents were easier to discuss than his friendships. "I imagine your mother has said it to him more than once. "

His eyebrows quirked for just a moment before composure settled once again on his features. "She has been the sole dissenting voice in my father's universe, at least for as long as I have known them."

"Except for yours," she noted.

He nodded, his thumb stroking lightly over the back of her hand, "Indeed. Perhaps he can bear one dissenting voice, but it seems, not two."

He glanced at the computer screen once again and then stood abruptly.

"I should go to the Bridge," he said.

She rose with him. "Where do you want me?" she asked.

He looked at her and a dozen answers tumbled one over the other – _at my side, in my bed, in my mind and in my soul…_

He spoke none of them, and whether she saw them in his eyes he didn't know.

"I believe the last assignment you were given was to escort my parents?"

"It was," she nodded.

"I understand that being around my mother may be difficult, but if you can, I would appreciate it if you continued that assignment."

She nodded again, slipping into her role as subordinate to a commanding officer. The dual role they played in each other's lives was becoming easier. She was beginning to think they could keep their relationship a secret for at least a little while longer – hopefully until they themselves had figured it out.

"You can leave first," she said, "I can wait until I sense the hall is empty. I'm sure I'll find your mother in sickbay."

Without another word or gesture Spock slipped out the door and it swished solidly closed behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

"He'll live," she said finally, with conviction.

His head cocked to one side curiously. "How do you know?"

She smiled a little again, though it didn't quite reach all the way into her eyes.

"I have a feeling," and then quickly to stave off his visual protest, "Don't look at me like that. I know a feeling isn't entirely logical but mine is based on careful observation. I can't believe McCoy won't find a way to save him. He won't let Sarek die. Even if he hasn't spoken to you in eighteen years, Sarek is _your _father and McCoy won't let your father die. I'm not sure anyone on this ship understands what exists between you and Jim and McCoy, but it does exist. I think the Vulcan concept of _t'hyla_ comes closest – more than friends, only slightly less than brothers. You all love each other unconditionally whether you admit it or not. McCoy will find a way."

Her eyes speared into his then, a pure gold interrogation that saw straight to the depths of his being.

"It's what you are counting on," she said, bluntly. "McCoy will do his job so you can do yours. It's that certainty in each other that makes the friendship work in spite of its obvious obstacles. You believe in each other, without question."

Spock was temporarily robbed of speech. He had never allowed the thought much less voiced it. He rarely allowed himself the luxury of exploring the complicated relationship that had arisen between himself, his CO and the doctor. Certainly it could no longer be considered strictly professional.

He reached across the desk for her hand, which she offered him willingly. He clasped it in the human manner, as tightly as he dared. The touch spoke volumes to her. In the rare times when he did let down his guard, it was like being touch by something rare and enchanting.

"I wonder," he said, finally, his velvet voice low and measured, "if anyone else has ever dared to call one of Sarek's decision 'foolish and illogical'."

Her full lips curved into a smile, seeing the ploy for what it was. Spock was deftly steering the conversation into less personal waters. His parents were easier to discuss than his friendships. "I imagine your mother has said it to him more than once. "

His eyebrows quirked for just a moment before composure settled once again on his features. "She has been the sole dissenting voice in my father's universe, at least for as long as I have known them."

"Except for yours," she noted.

He nodded, his thumb stroking lightly over the back of her hand, "Indeed. Perhaps he can bear one dissenting voice, but it seems, not two."

He glanced at the computer screen once again and then stood abruptly.

"I should go to the Bridge," he said.

She rose with him. "Where do you want me?" she asked.

He looked at her and a dozen answers tumbled one over the other – _at my side, in my bed, in my mind and in my soul…_

He spoke none of them, and whether she saw them in his eyes he didn't know.

"I believe the last assignment you were given was to escort my parents?"

"It was," she nodded.

"I understand that being around my mother may be difficult, but if you can, I would appreciate it if you continued that assignment."

She nodded again, slipping into her role as subordinate to a commanding officer. The dual role they played in each other's lives was becoming easier. She was beginning to think they could keep their relationship a secret for at least a little while longer – hopefully until they themselves had figured it out.

"You can leave first," she said, "I can wait until I sense the hall is empty. I'm sure I'll find your mother in sickbay."

Without another word or gesture Spock slipped out the door and it swished solidly closed behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Daphne did indeed find Amanda Grayson in sickbay. She was leaning in the doorway, watching her husband sleep. The monitors above his biobed were nearly still but Daphne knew enough about Vulcan customs and biology to recognize an attempt at a healing trance.

Amanda had changed little in the years Daphne had known her. She still seemed pristine and precise, elegant and self-possessed. She still vibrated with her own energy, though at the moment she seemed robbed of it. Now, she was pale and rigid, encased in silence and doing nothing more than gazing at Sarek as if she could keep him alive simply by willing it. Even with her empathic shields fully engaged, Daphne felt nothing from Amanda but the bleakest and most heart-wrenching pain.

Amanda Grayson's heart and soul were in a knot, hard and shriveled and almost too much to bear.

Spock held Daphne's heart in the palm of his hand now and all her love and loyalty were his to command. He had asked her to watch over his mother and she intended to do it. But she was still aching for the pain she had seen inflicted on him, and from the intolerable idea that someone would try to blackmail him with his own love for his family.

"Lady Amanda?" Daphne said, softly.

Spock's mother turned towards the sound of her voice with the greatest reluctance. She smiled with the mechanical training of a diplomat's wife though it did nothing to chase the stricken look from her eyes. Her eyes were dry but Daphne knew she had been crying.

"I brought you something to eat. If you aren't hungry at the moment, it will keep," she said, indicating the tray she was carrying.

"There surely must be yeomen who could carry out such a task?" Amanda noted.

"The last assignment given to me by my captain was to escort the ambassador and you," Daphne replied, paused, and then offered her a small smile, "I have not asked to be released from that assignment, nor will I."

Amanda cast a glance over her shoulder back to where her husband lay and then walked towards the table Daphne had set the tray upon.

"You truly are a diplomat's daughter," Amanda observed. She sat down and listlessly removed the napkin covering the simple fare. She stared at it for a moment and then said, "Grilled cheese and tomato soup? How could you possibly know that was one of my favorites, and virtually impossible to find even on vegetarian Vulcan?"

Daphne hesitated. She knew because Spock had told her that, when she had once made it for him. It was difficult to imagine him sharing such an intimate bit of information with his assistant science officer. Intellectually she had known that it would be a bit difficult to keep their secret from Spock's parents, even though they had both agreed that this particular unspoken truth needed to remain hidden.

It had become harder than she had imagined.

"I believe Terrans have an expression? Lucky guess?" Changing the subject quickly she looked towards the room where both her captain and Spock's father were and said, "Will it work?" Amanda gave her a puzzled look so she clarified, "The healing trance?"

Understanding dawned, but Amanda shook her head, "No. He told me he's tried in the past with little success, but it may buy some time now."

Whatever other small talk Daphne's diplomatic experience may have dredged up then died unborn. At that moment, McCoy came walking out of the other room with Kirk, upright and seemingly undamaged, at his side.

"Captain!" Daphne said, spinning around to face him fully. The second dual role she played on the Enterprise rose up to confront her. No one but Spock and McCoy knew she was Jim's half-sister. She schooled her features to Vulcan-like passivity and her voice to rigid Starfleet discipline. "It is good to see you are feeling better."

She stressed the word 'feeling' to let him know that he might be fooling the entire rest of the crew, but not her. Jim Kirk was not feeling better. He was on his feet by sheer strength of will. She glanced at McCoy, but the doctor had found something on the floor that demanded his attention and did not meet her eyes.

"Thank you, lt," Jim said, in his signature long slow punctuated manner, "Do you know if Spock is on the Bridge?"

"He is," she answered.

Unlike McCoy, Kirk could look someone straight in the eye and lie through his teeth, which was what he was doing at the moment. There was command in that gaze, and acknowledgement that she knew and an order to remain silent.

And then suddenly she understood and all the pieces clicked into place. Her stomach contracted as a painful spasm caught beneath her ribs. Her heart tangled into its own painful knot.

McCoy, it seemed, had indeed found a way. They were going to convince Spock that Jim was fit for command and let him step down. Daphne had a strong feeling of doubt that Spock would actually believe this; but, on the other hand, Spock might _want _to believe it. Amanda would be relieved and once again filled with hope. But she, Daphne, would have to somehow keep her fears for Spock to herself as he submitted to an experimental and potentially dangerous procedure; and in addition she had no idea what Jim really intended. Was he going to remain on the Bridge and risk reopening a barely healed and life-threatening wound?

Unable to speak and give voice to her fears, Daphne could only beg him with her eyes. _Be careful._

Kirk nodded, to both her spoken and unspoken words, and then strode out the door with McCoy practically stitched to his side. To herself Daphne observed that McCoy was going to have to relax if they were ever going to fool Spock. She turned back to Amanda, forcing a calm demeanor that belied her inner turmoil.

Spock's mother had not touched the food, but was stirring the soup thoughtfully. She glanced up at Daphne. A strange stillness had settled over the room, as if everything was waiting now in anticipation. There was an also an odd feeling of helplessness. The powerful forces that made up the command structure of the Enterprise were at work

"Spock will be relieved from command"? Amanda asked, slightly breathless. "He'll be free to undergo the procedure?"

"Yes," Daphne answered. Her voice was steady though her heart had unknotted and begun to hammer. She envied Amanda the simple freedom to express her emotions. So much of Daphne's life on the Enterprise had become secret. "The two men who just left this room are the only ones on board who can give him an order he has to obey."

Amanda swallowed," I had hardly dared hope for an answer, much less prayed for one," she paused and looked down at the hands she had clenched in her lap, "Now I just have something else to fear. They'll both be at risk."

_We both love him, _Daphne realized suddenly, _in spite of how furious she was with his actions, she does love him._

Yet she also knew that she loved Spock more than her own life, more than her soul. She was passionately in love with him_. _But there was no choice. She would stand by in silence and let him take the risk. She could not actively ensure the death of another man just to secure the joy she had in Spock.

"Dr. McCoy is one of the finest surgeons in the Fleet. The flagship would have no less, of course. Beyond that, he considers Spock a friend," she spoke with authority and certainty. Amanda had fixed her gaze upon Daphne as a drowning woman fixes upon a life ring, as if she offered some bright truth. "I think it is safe to pray and to hope now."


End file.
